


I Set Fire to Our bed

by zaogao



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaogao/pseuds/zaogao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is not used to being worried about, and Eames isn’t used to doing the worrying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Set Fire to Our bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [immoral_crow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/immoral_crow/gifts).



> This is for the really awesome Immoral-Crow, who I possibly have never spoken to, but have definitely lurked around creepily while reading and loving her fics. This is unbeta-ed right now, but will be done soon. So sorry for all the errors. And a huge, HUGE thanks to foxxcub for hosting the Dream-Holiday fic exchange.

 

Eames is too far away. He won’t make it in time.

 

All he can hear is the furious pace of his heart as he runs, the raggedness of his breath. He has the flash drive in his hand, the one that Cooke demanded. He can see Arthur and that sell out Cooke standing on the bridge, looking out at the choppy water below them. They have not noticed him yet.

 

It’s ironic, they look like they could be friends, maybe even lovers with how close they are standing but Eames knows that Cooke is holding Arthur’s own gun to his back. It’s windy this high up and the fluttering of Arthur’s long jacket blocks keeps the weapon out of sight but Eames can see Arthur’s tense stance from miles away. In fact it was only yesterday that Eames was massaging the tension out of that very same back.

 

It seems a very long time ago.

 

 They finally notice him, and Arthur—his darling Arthur, is glaring daggers at him. They agreed a week ago, that if the job with Cooke went south, they would split up and leave for their safe house in Taipei, but Eames doesn’t care. Their agreement had never mentioned Arthur getting himself captured and expecting Eames to just up and abandon him.

 

“I’ve got it,” Eames says slowing to a walk and keeping both his hands where Cooke can see them.

 

Very slowly Arthur’s lips curl into a smirk, and then in a flash he and Anderson are gone—tumbling over the railing together towards the murky water and Eames is left standing alone on the bridge.

 

It’s over in seconds even though it feels like an eternity. Their dive was almost graceful, Arthur’s arms wrapped around Cooke in a tight embrace as Arthur pulled him over the edge. All he can see is that smile, as they disappeared into the darkness of the river.

 

 

…

 

 

It’s been six-and-a-half days since Arthur… went missing.

 

Eames is at the craps table of his favorite casino in Macau, carefully not thinking about anything but the whiskey in his cup and the dice in his hands. He had waited at the bridge for hours but Arthur had never resurfaced. It must have been at least a 15 meter drop. He could have survived unless he had hit the surface wrong. Or hit something hidden underwater. The current was rushing that day. Arthur should have been fine unless maybe he wasn’t much of a swimmer and Eames hadn’t ever thought to question him on his front crawl—Eames grits his teeth and reminds himself that he’s not thinking about that. He’s already went and dug through all of Arthur’s old contacts but no one had heard from him either. He’d spent the last few days doing everything he could think of but still: nothing.

 

Eames rolls a three and loses $300 right off the bat. He doesn’t leave the table, just buys in again.

 

Arthur was—Arthur is always saying that Eames never knew when to quit. In fact Arthur said that again and again until Arthur finally gave up on trying to preserve their ‘professional relationship’—whatever that meant. They started off with a bang, literally, and had proceeded to fuck on almost every surface in that work warehouse. In the end Eames’ persistence paid off, but what now?

 

He refocuses on the game before him. Eames rolls a seven and makes up for his loss twofold. An appreciative murmur runs throughout the table but Eames can’t hear it listen because his phone is vibrating in his pocket and his heart has just gone zero to sixty in less than a second.

 

It’s a picture from an unknown number, and it takes Eames a few seconds to place it. It’s the view from his hotel window. 

 

Arthur always did believe in making his own luck after all.

 

 

…

 

 

Eames opens the door to his room, and sure enough, there he is—Arthur in all his steam-pressed designer-clad glory. He looks up from where he’s scribbling in his damned notebook and Eames is a million things at once: relieved, ecstatic, angry and now that he is allowed to think about it, completely terrified of what that means.

 

“And who do we have here?” he drawls by way of greeting. Arthur stares at him, eyebrows rising slightly at Eames’ tone. They stare at each other, and Eames thinks that Arthur must be taking in his appearance, the dark circles under his eyes, more than a few days worth of stubble and the cloying smell of tobacco and alcohol.

 

“What happened?” Arthur asks and of all the things Eames expected to say, this is the strangest.

 

“Me? You happened to me, what the bloodly hell.” Eames paces and points an accusing finger at him “You were gone, Arthur!”

 

“You weren’t worried… were you?” Arthur says, his voice wavering as if stuck between convinced and bewildered—what, they’ve been together for how long and is it really that farfetched for someone to be a little worried after watching your lover freefall 20 bloody meters and disappear off the face of the planet?

 

Eames doesn’t bother to dignify that with a response, just stalks over and pulls Arthur bodily from the chair and into a punishing kiss. He grabs Arthur tight around his arms and he can feel the way Arthur melts into the embrace, the way he wraps himself around Eames, his left hand insinuating itself under Eames’s shirt.

 

Maybe Eames is using a bit more force than normal, but Arthur doesn’t seem to mind if the way he squeezes back just as tightly and moans as Eames bites Arthur’s lips is any indication.

 

When they break apart for air, Arthur is already looking debauched. His lips are red and swollen and he has two spots of color high on his cheeks. He’s staring, those dark brown eyes searching Eames wonderingly, and Eames can just see him in his mind’s eye, assessing this new information and labeling it and probably filing it under ‘Ways to drive Eames absolutely insane’.

 

“It wasn’t even a week,” he says in what Eames assumes Arthur believes to be a placating tone. “I wanted to make sure we covered up our tracks, especially because all of Cooke’s inner-circle suddenly went _missing_ ”.

 

“I was looking for you,” Eames says glowering at the other man. Besides he didn’t kill anyone, only maimed a few. They stare at each other for a long moment.

 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur shrugs finally and steps back into Eames’ personal space.

 

“No,” Eames says, an idea forming in his head. “You’re not… Not yet at least.”

 

Eames walks to the bed, feeling Arthur’s gaze hot on his back.

 

 

…

 

 

“Drop your trousers,” Eames demands as he arranges himself on the bed. He’s still fully dressed, but he doesn’t care. This is about teaching Arthur a lesson, taking him apart exactly the way Eames has been going crazy without Arthur. They stare at each other, neither giving anything away, when tired of waiting: Eames simply tells him: “now”.

 

Something in his voice makes Arthur lurch into action, and he’s treated to the sight of Arthur running his hands up and down his body and rubbing himself lightly through his trousers and humming his appreciation.

 

“If you wanted a show, all you had to do was give me a little specificity Mr. Eames.”

 

Arthur teasingly flicks the button open with his thumb and normally this display would have Eames tripping over himself to grab Arthur and just get on with it. But right now Eames is the picture of restraint. He’s not going to be distracted.

 

When Arthur notices that Eames is lounging on the bed giving a him a mild look despite the impromptu show, he huffs a breath of annoyance and begins to disrobe in earnest. It only takes him seconds to kick off his shoes and trousers and he unbuttons his shirt, leting it slide off his shoulders as he approaches Eames.

 

When Arthur is finally finished, Eames pulls him over his lap. He ignores Arthur’s shocked intake of breath and when Arthur tenses and moves to stand up, Eames simply pushes his shoulder back down onto the mattress. This way, Eames can see everything: Arthur’s pert arse and the delicate curve of his back as he tenses and tries to free himself. Belying his abortive movements is the hardening dick that Eames can feel digging into his thigh.

 

“You’ve been bad Arthur, making me worry like. I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

 

“And what’s that?”

 

“That you’re mine.”

 

With no other warning, Eames brings his hand down and slaps Arthur’s arse. The crack of his hand meeting flesh is loud and reverberates in quiet of the room. Arthur makes a choked sound that gets bitten off as soon as it starts but Eames doesn’t give him a chance to recover, just brings his hand down again and again.

 

“You don’t get to come or run away on some secret mission or jump off a bloody bridge unless I say so.” Eames continues, the words just bubbling out of his mouth as he is distracted by the delicious sight of Arthur writhing in his lap.

 

He makes sure to hit each perfectly rounded arse cheek equally, sometimes lowering his strikes to hit the tops of Arthur’s thighs as well. Eames pauses when he realizes he’s hard and so is Arthur. He can feel that telltale wetness seeping into his trousers from where Arthur’s is rubbing his cock against Eames’ thigh. Arthur lets outs a sound of disappointment when he realizes that Eames has stopped.

 

His arse is quite a sight to behold normally, but Eames thinks he prefers it like this: the alabaster skim turned red and angry and hot to the touch. He palms both cheeks rubbing and massaging and smoothing the hurt away, and Arthur moans loudly. Eames studies his face, reads the raw desire written across his features but Arthur quickly turns away and mumbles something into the crook of his elbow.

 

“Louder,” Eames tells him and Arthur finally looks back up.

 

“I need… more,” he says and squirms in Eames’ lap. “Please touch me,” Eames sweeps his hands over Arthur’s back, feeling the smooth expanse of skin and muscle how his whole body jumps when Eames scrapes his nails over Arthur’s sides where he is ticklish.

 

“Touch you like this?”

 

“You know what I meant,” Arthur snaps, sitting up and maneuvering himself into Eames’ lap.

 

“Show me,” Eames tells him, and it’s not like Eames has never seen Arthur jerk off before, but it’s never been quite like this between the two of them.

 

Arthur wraps a hand around his own cock, and Eames watches with rapt attention while he gathers the liquid pearling at his cockhead and slicks it up and down his length.

 

“That’s it darling,” Eames encourages. He wraps a hand around Arthur’s, forcing his grip tighter and faster and Arthur moans again, He angles his mouth towards Eames and they’re kissing again, Eames slowing fucking his tongue into Arthur’s mouth until he moans again. Arthur’s hips are jerking uncontrollably and he’s making these quiet sounds that Eames tries his best to swallow and keep forever. He can tell that Arthur is getting close.

 

Arthur’s detangles their tongues and pulls back to say something but he never gets the chance because Eames chooses that moment to pull Arthur’s hands away from his dick. Arthur struggles against Eames’ grip and when he doesn’t budge Arthur growls. The sound of it makes Eames want to give up his plans and just fuck Arthur senseless right there.

 

He doesn’t though, just pins both of Arthur’s arms against his sides. Arthur undulates his hips, desperately trying to get any sort of friction and when that fails, he glares at Eames stonily. The look is ruined because he his disheveled hair is completely obscuring one eye and his lips are wet with Eames’ saliva. Eames forces Arthur to keep still until slowly his breathing evens out and he stops fighting Eames’ grip.

 

“What are you doing?” Arthur demands.

 

“You’re not allowed to come until I say you can.” Eames tells him. “You _are_ still being punished”. Eames can feel the shudder running through Arthur at that, but he is not fooled. His darling is devious to the very end. Soon enough, Eames is proved right when Arthur mouth twitches until a little smile. He looks up at Eames from under his eyelashes.

 

“Come on baby, I missed you. I touched myself, just like that, thinking about you”. Arthur licks his lips and Eames follows the movement closely. He can’t help it, Arthur has always been his weak spot. Eames feels his cock twitch in his pants and they’re already ruined and Eames groans. Sensing his advantage, Arthur continues.

 

“I fucked myself with three fingers, imagining it was cock filling me up” Arthur whispers and when Eames’ grip goes slack Arthur brings one hand to his face, and starts worshipping Eames’ fingers with that sinful mouth of his. He licks and suckles at Eames fingers and it breaks something inside of Eames. Moving quickly he picks Arthur up from his lap and throws him across the bed.  He undresses quickly, while Arthur scrambles for the lube that Eames left on the night stand.

 

When Eames shucks off his shirt, he is just in time to see Arthur slip two lube-coated fingers into his own hole. Eames can’t help but groan as he watches Arthur scissor himself open. He is rushed and a lot of lube ends up sliding from his hole and dripping down his thights.

 

Pushed past limits that no man should have to endure, Eames just grabs some lube and quickly pours some over his cock. 

 

“Just hurry up and fuck me,” Arthur whines and who is he to argue with that?

 

Arthur slips his fingers free with gets on his hands and knees. And what a pretty picture he makes, long limbs and tight muscles and his arse cheeks still and angry red from Eame’s earlier attentions. He can just make out a handprint, and when he fitsHe aligns his cock with Arthur’s pink and abused little hole and pushes in with one thrust.

 

“Ah ah ah,” Arthur moans loudly as Eames fills him up and stretches him from the inside. Eames can’t control himself not with the tight wetness of Arthur’s arse clenching on his dick like that. Pulling himself halfway out, he starts thrusting in and out mercilessly. Arthur arches his back wildly and strains to meet Eames thrust for thrust.

 

Eames knows that he has found the right angle when Arthur begins clawing at the sheets, gripping them so hard that his knuckles are white and his shoulders are shaking with the effort of keeping himself up. Arthur usually can’t come without touching his cock, but right now he is so close that Eames thinks he might not need anything more Eame’s dick fucking him open. Eames can make Arthur come just like this, and it’s a heady thought but Eames won’t do it. He is going to make Arthur wait just a little bit longer. Eames really just wants to see him lose control.

When he feels Arthur begin to tense and clench around his cock, Eames stops immediatel—bringing his hand to squeeze Arthur’s balls.

 

“No, no, no,” Arthur groans, making a strangled sound. Arthur turns to him and Arthur might be imagining it but his eyes seem watery and his eyelashes are clumping together wetly. “Please don’t stop, I-I need to come, please”.

 

“Shhhh,” Eames croons at him, smoothing his hair back from where its fallen into his eyes. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

 

Arthur lets out a whimper at that, and his eyes look lost, pupils dilated and looking back and forth between Eames’ face and where they are joined together. Eames strokes his hair tells Arthur to match his breathing with his but still it takes a long time for Arthur to calm down. Eames is still buried deep inside him, can still feel him throbbing around his cock, and its so good it’s almost painful. But it’s worth it to see Arthur like this, begging and wild-eyed, his cock so hard and colored an angry purple, while his balls sit heavy and full. His arse is throbbing around Eames’ cock and he feels scorching hot wherever Eames is touching him.

 

Eames holds still for as long as he can, stroking Arthur’s back, shushing him whenever he makes another sound or tries to impale himself back of Eames’ dick. Eventually Arthur is back to his normal self. His heartbeat stops racing even though his cock is impossibly hard and there are strands of pre-cum everywhere, all over the sheets and dripping down to cover where Eames is still cupping Arthur’s balls.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

Arthur nods frantically, pushing out his arse again and Eames can’t help but moan and give up whatever other plans he might have had. “Okay, darling, you’ve been so good, so good. Just hold on a little bit longer ”.

 

Arthur murmurs a yes, and slumps bonelessly onto the mattress. Eames drapes himself over Arthur, covering him completely and starts thrusting into him with abandon.  They are racing towards the finish line and even though Arthur’s energy is drained, he  manages to push back weakly into the fast thrusts that Eames can no longer control. Arthur moans in a low whine now, broken now and then to gasp whenever Eames cock hits his that sweet little spot inside him.

 

Eames speeds up even more, grunting with effort and they both can tell that he is not going to last, Arthur is begging now, just a litany of ‘ _please please oh god I can’t I need please_ ’ and sobbing hiccups.

 

“Now,” Eames tells him and he reaches to stroke Arthur’s cock but he doesn’t even get the chance. As soon as Arthur hears that word, his cock and balls clench so hard he can his eyes roll into the back of his head and gives a strangled shout, come spurting in thick white strands over the sheets and his chest. Arthur can feel Eames coming inside of him in spurts, still thrusting and grinding into him until Arthur feels so full and sated but he isn’t finished yet. Eames is stilled inside him now, his hand coming to gather the come that has dribbled out of his hole and down his thighs. Impossibly Arthur is still clenching and throbbing and his cock gives one spurt then another before he finally collapses, his muscles giving out. Eames pulls out carefully and falling to Arthur’s side.

 

They breathe in tandem for a few long minutes, just staring at each other. Eames feels the wonder on his face, and he doesn’t know whats going to happen when Arthur finally catches his breath but Eames is feeling much to gloriously spent to worry too much. Judging by the exhausted but blessed out grin on Arthur’s face, he can chalk it up to a resounding success.

 

 “The things you do to me,” Arthur sighs, finally schooling his features into a glare but Eames can see the smile in his eyes.

 

It’s only fair that they drive each other crazy.

 

Eames just smiles back and holds Arthur closer to him.


End file.
